- do u feel the potential of something longlasting and amazingly unique and special happening here? Yeah, but potential is equal to ZERO if you don't put your hands in it (me).

Avocado Mouth

She smells like grass,
earth and rain
in a sunshine day.
She is always singing
to me through her
electrical cords eyes
and talking through
touch and accidental
melting strokes of her hands
(her skin tingles emotions
in my brain).

She eats her avocado with finger tips
and slides her buttery tongue
past her own lips, yeah,
her avocado kiss...

My mind is spinning
like a hoola hoop
all over her waist,
my heart's so loud
she might listen to it.
And if she does
I'll make sure I play all my beats.


Multi-tasking is a Must in the Modern Era

- So what do you do?
- Slash this, slash, slash, slash and slash (all full of herself).
- Oh... and how would you define your work?
- A little of slash, a big part of slash and sort of slash going towards that and slash.
- Oh... amazing... and who are you?
- I/am.

The Collector

(I wrote this poem back in the days when I did not have my chest tattooed, so a while ago hehehe. But I edited it today. So an old pic for an old-new poem. Enjoy!)

You make me touch
your hand for stupid reasons,
you laugh while pressing
my keys,
from my chest gore,
from my mouth filthy smoke;
You came to collect my...

You make me touch
your hand for stupid reasons,
you drink up my patient
and spit suspension around,
from my eyes caves;
You came to collect my...

You make me cling
my jaw for stupid reasons,
you wrap me around the barbed wire
of your warmth,
you kiss me with your teeth,
you wax away my last
hair of humanity;
You came to collect my...

You make me
be in danger for stupid reasons,
I wear the straight jacket you gave me
on our anniversary,
your bracelet stuck to my skin,
the scars close by my forearm
so symmetric;
You came to collect my...
for stupid reasons.


I am here

begging for
something extra
to happen,
something extra[ordinary].

In the sky, in the leaves,
in the sheets, on my sleep?

Extra went out
to buy cigarettes
and never came back
to her sweet ordinary.


I combed my
twisted hair
hoping to
my thoughts

But my image
reflected on the
had never
been this dead before.


It had finally occurred to me when I got another text: my friends never call. Everything is typed, abbreviated, monotone and intuitive: this is the era where everything is possibly possible.

Oh a text… from one of my friends. I guess it's been two months that I don’t see her… my friend, I’ve been so busy, working like crazy, but hey, we gotta do what we gotta do right? At least now I got some kick ass money… and now what to do, what to do?! I haven’t seen her since last party at Love! And everytime we see one another, we dance… yeah! Our friendship is based on non verbal communication, we just feel it you know? Because the music is too loud, so obviously we can’t really talk… but yeah, so I might buy a new TV with the money I saved! But hold on, I don’t really watch TV. But maybe for my movies, I LOVE movies! But I never watch them by myself because I find it pathetic; I need someone to talk to after the movie. Ah yeah, I understand, too busy for a movie? Well, I’m sure I’ll see you soon!

And if I see her soon it will probably be in one of those random encounters which you act like you missed the person to death but when you really do don’t you express it out, at least?

Damn, everything is so calculated.

Random Thought #3

What's the point of living if not INTENSLY & CONSTANTLY? I feel sorry for those theatrical people who say it was the best time of their lives and they are never around, or those who are always around but are just artificially shallow.

The Girl who Found Cure InTrance

Rays of liquid drums
breeze of strawberry sigh
involuntary movements
of vanilla spontaneity
all over our sky.
I am eating music.

your thighs

The water of consciousness
sweating out my pores,
the steps so light
along my path
of endless hope.
I am dancing music.

Sounds of strength
whispering to my veins
"there is always life
there is always life".
We are music,
me and Trance.

Fundamentals of Poetry through a Digital Heart

[Title of my first book soon to come! Actually this poem was written after I started working on my book but I think it contains every single aspect of what my book is about. Enjoy!]
My heart drips
gigabytes of emotional
surreal paint
all over the air
there are non-stop steps
from all different paths
I’ve stamped on,
even from those unknown.
It keeps dripping,
smoke of laughter
and then cry all
those heavy rocks
of pain,
never push rewind,

tic-toc, tic-toc
there’s no time for that
you see, seconds turn
into minutes that turn
into seconds that turn
into days and turn
right here, please,
turn me upside down
then turn me on
and turn the lights off

‘Cause my heart’s still
a sense of

‘Cause my heart still

The Creation of Emotions

2 am.

Should I be sleeping?

Instead I couldn't stop

until I was done,

until the splash



all over the paper,

until forms

blended into

a whole new idea...

The Theory and Practice of Love

[I have over 20 poems I need to post... I just been dedicating myself so much to the creation of a design that I can't keep up with it! Be patient ;)]




I've read so many books,
so many times
the oil of my fingertips
painted Van Gogh
on every header and foot note.

I've read them hysterically so
some words could faint,
so some could be stuck
in my teeth while laughing.

I've touched so many bodies and souls,
so many times
my hands cried
drops of loss and gain,
the same, it might never end.

I've touched them deeply so
some emotions could explode,
so some could build up
like skyscrapers on my tongue.

Have I ever...
Will I ever...
Haven't I already
found it?


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